


Rectified Spirits

by Lacerta09 (lovelyannelid)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Don't do it, Drunk!Steve, Lots of alcohol, M/M, bottom!tony, if you drank as much as Cap you'd die, top!steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 02:34:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5074033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelyannelid/pseuds/Lacerta09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cap can’t get drunk off of regular liquor, but what if Tony made rectified spirits from Asgardian wine?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rectified Spirits

Steve breathed into his palm and sniffed. His breath smelled low and mellow from the rectified spirits brewed to overpower the blonde’s robust metabolism. Beer did nothing to Steve, but 95% pure alcohol in copious quantities was another matter entirely.  Steve had expressed doubts as to whether he could get drunk in the first place, but Tony was persuasive when he wanted to be. Even the Hulk could be subdued with enough tranquilizer darts, Tony insisted, and Steve had less blood in him to thin than their green friend. Wolverine drank like a fish to overcome his resistance. Didn’t Steve want to see if it was possible? For science? Besides, the anniversary of his awakening only happened once a year.

   So Steve had sat on a couch in the common area, and waited while Tony vanished and reappeared. He accepted the shotglass Tony thrust into his hand and smiled when the shorter man proffered a half-litre bottle of clear, chilled rectified spirits from behind his back.

“Distilled right here in the Tower from some great vintages of wine,” Tony added as he unstoppered the bottle. The cork squeaked on glass and the liquor glugged as he filled up the first shot.

Steve’s questioning look made Tony’s eyes flick away, then back.

“What?” Tony asked, defensive and eager to justify himself. “I had some wine delivered so I could distill it for you. I could have distilled it from, you know, grass cuttings or dead leaves, but I didn’t. It’s been food every stage of its life, just more and more concentrated food. It’s fine to drink.”

“I know, Tony,” Steve reassured him, amused by his friend’s skittish nature. He smiled and glanced into the shotglass, down to the bottom where the shadows of his fingers darkened the sides. “It just means you planned ahead for today.”

Tony froze for a split-second, smile plastered on his face, and then he shook his head and shrugged one shoulder.

“It’s—kinda like a birthday. Most likely day to get you to say yes to a drink,” Tony said after a moment. His eyes darted to the glass in Steve’s hand. “Why wouldn’t I plan? So are you gonna drink it or what?”

“I’m drinking. It’s just nice to know someone’s keeping track of me other than me, is all. I appreciate it, Tony,” Steve said, and tilted his head back to pour liquor into his mouth. It burned his cheeks and tongue with the high-frequency sizzle of living cells dying and regenerating. Steve swallowed the poison and it fell in a warm curtain down his throat and vanished into his torso. He exhaled as Tony sat a small distance away on the couch, eager.

“That? That smells like a hobo’s palace. We’re gonna discover your metabolic threshold today,” Tony enthused, and he leaned forward to refill the shot glass. “Here’s another. Go for it.”

Steve tossed the second back, and the third, and the fourth and after the fifth he raised his hand for a rest before his next glass.

“Feelin’ it?” Tony asked, and he set the bottle on the cool steel coffee table. It clinked, sides slick with beads of water.

“Feelin’ somethin’,” Steve admitted and he swallowed.  Muscles in his back unknotted as the drink relaxed tense tissues and saturated his organs, and the blonde man sighed as he melted against the couch’s back. His chest felt expansive and Steve felt the urge to stretch his shoulders. Inhibitions lowered, he didn’t think about it, he just stretched his arms to each side and rested them on the couch’s top. He sighed again, and appreciated the simplicity of the drunken world. Alcohol was dangerous, but Steve had to admit it had its upsides.

“You’re relaxed,” Tony observed from the side, and Steve refocused his attention on the smaller man.

“Yeah,” Steve said, still high on the release of muscular tension. He favoured his friend with a dopey smile.

“Care to report your findings?” Tony asked, tone expectant.

Steve’s reply to Tony was a nonplussed expression.

“I’m getting drunk,” Steve said. “My findings are that it’s great and I missed it a lot.”

Tony made a sound in his throat and glanced at the bottle on the coffee table.

Instantly, Steve cursed his flippancy.

“It’s not that great,” he assured the smaller man, hyper conscious of the liquor on the table now, and the time Tony had spent alone with it while he concocted the spirits. Steve could have hit himself for praising alcohol in his friend’s presence and his comfort curdled into shame. “A good run is way more relaxing, you know? Some laps around the gym, a good session with a punching bag or the bad guys—that’s what I call a release of tension.”

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, face still turned away.

“Steve—“ he started, but the blonde cut him off.

“This really just reminds me why I feel better sober,” Steve insisted, determined not to praise alcohol in any form. He looked at Tony, but the other man seemed exasperated.

“Steve!” exclaimed Tony.

The larger man’s words died on his tongue.

“I’m an alcoholic, not a zombie,” said Tony intently. “I can handle alcohol in the lab and not lose myself. I have an addiction, you don’t. So enjoy yourself. I’m fine. Wouldn’t offer if I weren’t.”

Steve stared at Tony, who sat on the edge of the couch cushion in a tense bundle of singing nervous energy. He snerked.

“Yeah, I can tell you’re fine,” the blonde man said, and resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“What? I am one hundred percent fine!” snapped Tony, elbows on his knees.

Steve didn’t think, he just acted. With lowered inhibitions, he moved one arm from the back of the couch, snagged the collar of Tony’s black t-shirt and tugged him backwards.

“So relax,” Steve insisted. “Your nerves are cutting into my enjoyment.”

Tony didn’t fight. The smaller man let himself be pulled further onto the couch cushion by Steve’s fingers in his shirt collar. Obediently, Tony leaned back so the nape of his neck rested against the inside of Steve’s arm near his elbow.

Tony exhaled and closed his eyes, but couldn’t keep them shut for long. He opened them to see Steve’s amusement and fondness.  

The larger man sensed something bothered Tony still. He could tell by the way Tony’s eyes met his, then glanced off. The smaller man was hiding something.

Steve followed Tony’s gaze and found the room as empty as it had been before, save the two of them. He returned his gaze to Tony.

“Something on your mind?” Steve asked.

“How drunk are you?” Tony said. “Pretty relaxed?”

“Yeah,” Steve admitted. If Tony was going somewhere with all of this, he was damn interested in knowing the purpose. Steve suspected Tony had another motive than the anniversary of his de-icing and a random desire to know his metabolic threshold for alcohol. Like many of Tony’s plans, though, this one was opaque. All Steve could do was play along until Tony felt comfortable enough to show his hand.

“Could you drink more?” Tony asked, and he turned his head to look at Steve. Brown hair tickled the inside of Steve’s arm, but the super soldier didn’t move. He liked the weight of Tony’s head on his outstretched limb. 

“I guess. But five works,” Steve said. “Why? Are you trying to get me drunk, Tony?”

“Well—yeah,” Tony admitted. He blinked. “I figure at least one of us should have a good time. Get drunk, have fun! It feels good to you, right?”

Steve laughed, white teeth flashing in the evening light that slanted through the valley of skyscrapers around them. His laughter boomed in the empty space around them.

“Of course it feels good!” Steve guffawed, amused. “Why, what’s it feel like to you?”

Tony’s fingers twitched on his thighs and for a moment he didn’t answer.

“…Like falling into a black hole,” Tony muttered with the voice of something half-strangled.

Steve’s laughter died in his throat. He looked at Tony, who rested his head on Steve’s arm but stared up at the ceiling with eyes as dead as marbles.

“Hey, now—easy…” Steve said, and again, without thinking, he moved his arm down around the other man’s shoulder and chest. Steve pulled Tony back against the muscular column of his torso and squeezed his arm around his friend’s chest, fingers splayed in Tony’s rumpled t-shirt. Tony froze, stiff as a plank of wood.

Steve wasn’t used to alcohol after such a long time without, and he acted naturally, without thought for what an outsider might think. Touching wasn’t unusual amongst men, not to Steve. He’d served in the military; men ate, slept and lived with one another, with all the emotional entanglements such living arrangements entailed. That meant pats on the back, ruffles of the hair and playful joking shoves. A guy who revealed a wound like addiction? He deserved and maybe needed a hug at the least.

Steve turned his face into the back of his friend’s head and exhaled through his nose. He smelled shampoo and soap, and underneath a familiar, warm sweat. Some long moments passed where Tony relaxed in tiny increments against the larger man, and soon his weight settled against the side of Steve’s chest. Neither man said anything.

It wasn’t like Tony was just any old soldier who needed a hug, Steve felt inside. Tony was his friend and comrade in arms, the guy he’d learned to rely on after countless dangers. Tony was everything Howard was, and more. He did things his father only dreamed of, and dreamed of things his father couldn’t have fathomed in his most outrageous wonderings.  Tony was special. No amount of pleasure was worth dragging his friend to a dark place.

“Listen, Tony, this drinking test thing? We found my limit. I don’t want any more. I’ll pour the rest down the sink,” the blonde man said into Tony’s hair.

The smaller man’s body restiffened in Steve’s grasp, even before his annoyed inhale.

“Don’t,” Tony said, tone irritated.

“Don’t what?” Steve asked, caught off guard.

“Don’t get all noble,” Tony said. “Don’t make this a thing, Steve. Just enjoy yourself.”

“I don’t want any more alcohol,” Steve said into soft brown hair, placating. He wouldn’t drink, not if it dragged Tony into a difficult emotional position. 

“I have tests to run, you might have to drink again,” Tony insisted. He shifted under Steve’s muscular arm, but didn’t move away.

“Listen,” Steve said. “We’ll talk about it later.”

“This isn’t over,” warned Tony.

Steve let his friend have the last word. Tony clearly had an ulterior motive behind his ostensible desire to monkey with Steve’s metabolism, and Steve wanted some time to put pieces together. He was tipsy and his mental fingers fumbled with possibility and motive like a toddler with Duplo blocks.

Maybe, Steve considered with muzzy worry, he wasn’t drinking alcohol at all. Steve always assumed other people acted in good faith, so the idea that Tony was feeding him some other concoction jolted Steve’s heart in tense alarm. He looked at the bottle on the coffee table. He’d never been able to get intoxicated since becoming Captain America, and the clear liquid burned his mouth and throat unlike any alcohol he’d ever drunk…

What could he do? The super soldier took stock: he was still conscious and relatively able to function. Twenty minutes passed before the effects kicked in, so whatever Tony fed him required time and large quantities to work. How large, though?

Steve’s eyes fell on the shot glass. He’d taken five shots already and Tony wanted him to take more, if not now then later in future ‘tests’. That meant that he hadn’t satisfied Tony’s curiosity regarding what the liquid did to Captain America. Steve took his best projection of Tony’s bizarre behavior one step further: Tony would pester him until that curiosity was satisfied.  

The blonde wiped his face with one hand and grimaced, though inside he felt a certain wry fondness for the quirkiness of his friend’s behaviour.  Tony’s ego must have been wrapped up in this somehow, Steve guessed, because nothing made Tony work in circles and sideways like something close to his mechanical heart.

“Everything ok, Cap?” Tony said from under Steve’s arm.

“Yep,” Steve said, and he lifted his arm from around Tony’s chest and belly. The brown-haired man shot him a questioning look, but pulled away so Steve could lean forward and pick up the bottle and shot glass.

“What are you doing?” Tony asked, tone wary. His nervous eyes darted in a triangle between the shotglass, bottle and Steve’s face.

“I’m taking your advice, Tony,” Steve said with some of the wry fondness in his heart. He poured a shot and some excess sloshed over the side. “I’m going to enjoy myself!”

Steve wasn’t the type to machinate or play mind-games, and he had only a few simple rules for his team. The first and most important was trust. And like a boyscout, Steve led by example. He trusted Tony not to kill him or suddenly turn coat. He trusted that something important was at stake. He trusted that Tony had a legitimate need. So Steve decided he’d play along to satisfy his friend’s curiosity and he’d play dumb to protect his friend’s sensitive ego.

He swallowed his sixth shot in one gulp.

Tony laughed, but it was a nervous thing as Steve threw back the liquid and immediately poured another round.

“Now I’m the one saying take it easy, Steve,” Tony chided as Steve polished off his seventh. “Give it time to hit you. It’s useless if you end up puking.”

“Advice from the master?” Steve jabbed, tone playful, and there was a moment when the mood hung on a single point, ready to crumple and fall down.

Tony guffawed, and the moment passed, forgotten.

“Something like that,” the scientist replied mysteriously. He smirked.

“This may surprise you, Tony,” Steve said as he poured out an eighth shot glass of the suspicious stuff. “But I can—y’know, handle my liquor.”

“We’ll see, Cap,” Tony shrugged. He watched as the muscular super-soldier finished the eighth round and returned the glass and bottle to the low, steel table.

“Ahhhh,” exhaled Steve, and he settled back against the couch. Without a thought, he slithered his arm around Tony’s torso and tugged the smaller man to his earlier place against Steve’s side. Tony didn’t object, and only squirmed to adjust his position into a more comfortable one. Steve rolled his shoulders and inhaled deeply, then sighed in comfort as the warmth in his stomach and belly radiated outwards in a delicious wave of relaxation and comfort.

If this wasn’t alcohol, Steve considered dizzily with a faint smile plastered to his face, it was one hell of a substitute.  

Literal decades had passed since the super soldier had experienced chemical relaxation in such a benevolent setting. Tension Steve hadn’t been aware of evaporated from his shoulders and legs, and the blonde swallowed as his neck unknotted at the base of his skull. Fingers of now-loose muscle untensed all over Steve’s body and the man couldn’t suppress a small groan of relief. How tense was he usually?

“Good?” Tony asked, quiet.

“Just—lettin’ it hit me,” Steve said, and rested his forehead on the curve of Tony’s crown. He exhaled, and smelled the mellow rot of something very similar to alcohol on his own breath. Steve tried to analyze the scent further, but his thoughts were muddled and tripped over themselves.

It was too difficult to exist in the cold, airy world of facts and logic when his body beckoned with warm, cozy arms. Steve abandoned his considerations for a later time and caved in to the rare moment of comfort, friendship and relaxation in a lifetime of war.

Tony shifted under his arm, but only to rest his own hand on the arm slanted over his body.

Outside, the sun’s rays had faded from tawny gold into deep, burnished red. Indigo stained the opposite horizon with a vibrant dye and revealed a first glimpse of a navy blue night where stars waited, unseen but fervent.

Steve breathed into Tony’s hair and the relief was so great he could have sobbed. He measured his breaths instead and abandoned thought in favour of a simple, profound existence free of pain.

“I wanna move, I’m falling over,” Tony complained after what felt like mere moments, though the sun’s rays filtered their last now. He shifted up and back against the larger man to avoid falling backwards across Steve’s lap.

“Nn—“ Steve complained, interrupted from his drink. He leaned back and turned his torso to provide a vertical surface for Tony to lean on, but that left his hips in an awkward position of facing forwards while his chest faced 45-degrees away. Not comfortable.

It seemed natural to bend his knee and slip it up and under Tony, so that Steve leaned on the couch’s arm at an angle with legs spread and Tony sat between them, his back on Steve’s chest.

“There, better,” Tony said, and he fell silent in his new position.

“Nn,” Steve said in his throat and he closed his eyes—though the initial rush had faded.  Awareness of his limbs filtered in bits and pieces of sensation, specifically the sensation of Tony’s back providing a firm stripe of pressure down the centre of Steve’s torso, and the super-soldier’s arm wrapped around his best friend. His fingers had flexed and worked the fabric of Tony’s t-shirt with unconscious movements till it fell up and over, and now Steve’s palm and fingers splayed across a set of rippled abdominals covered by soft, warm skin.

Instantly his mind darted to Peggy and coupled with a feeling of guilt.

She wouldn’t approve of Tony.

Steve flexed his fingers and his thumb ticked across Tony’s bellybutton. 

Steve felt hypersensitive as blood pooled everywhere in his body; his feet and hands felt hot and heavy, and the pressure of Tony’s ass against his groin—

It was just an animal thing, right? Pressure plus heat plus lonely made a reaction. It wasn’t like this was the first time Steve had thrown a chubby when in close contact with a friend. He’d grown up before innocent physical contact between men was sexualized. Sometimes an erection was just an erection. This didn’t have to mean anything.

Steve willed his erection down before Tony noticed, but his body had no notions of obeying his intellect. Steve stiffened by slow increments against Tony’s back. He bit his lip, mortified but aroused by the relief of the ‘alcohol’, the intimacy of the situation and the flesh beneath his hand.

Tony shifted and resettled, and every second tortured Steve as the friction highlighted his awareness of his cock sandwiched between his lower belly and Tony’s spine. To Steve’s relief, Tony remained silent.

Steve sat in silence and waited for his body to relinquish the idea that sex was on the table. He was Tony’s friend, to begin with, and it would complicate pretty much everything if that changed. Steve didn’t know how to boyfriend someone, and he especially didn’t know what role to slot Tony into if they became—his mind stumbled here—involved.

He knew that Tony was passionate, sensitive and outrageous when provoked. It was one thing to be Tony Stark’s teammate, it was another to be his lover. And lover Steve would be, because he wasn’t a man who did one night stands. Steve committed when he made a choice, he committed to seeing it through. If he committed to Tony, it would be a promise to see Tony through.

 _Haven’t you already?_ asked a voice from somewhere deep inside.

Steve’s mouth dried and he felt like he stood at the precipice of something vast and sacred. At the same time, he felt unwilling to step forward if movement meant risking what he already had. Steve was adventurous, but no sane gambler used the home pot. That was untouchable. What he had with Tony was untouchable.

Tony made a low sound in his throat.

“Uh,” said Tony. His hand tightened on the arm slashed across his chest. “Is that what I think it is back there?”

Steve’s jaw tensed. Found out. Instantly, his heart hammered a harsh drumbeat in his chest, but he breathed out a laugh, determined to shrug it off. Should he move? If he ripped away from Tony, that would look more guilty than staying still, so Steve held put.

“Oh, y’know—just a—like you’ve never popped one at random,” Steve flustered.

Tony smirked and didn’t reply. Confusingly, he remained where he was beneath Steve’s muscular arm. Moments passed, and Steve’s heart slowed from its frantic pace as silence reigned. His erection, once throbbing and fierce, flagged and softened as the silence stretched.

“So just to be clear,” Tony said suddenly, twisting his head up and back to look at Steve’s face. “You just got a hardon.”

Steve’s face flushed red and he looked down, into the penetrating eyes.

“Yes,” he said, humiliated but refusing to be shamed for a biological process. “I just—jeeze, Tony, would you—ahh, would it sound stupid if I said I don’t—have a lot of people close to me? That’s all it means.”

“Ah,” Tony said. His gaze faltered for a moment, weakened, turned inward and Steve found himself wondering where his friend went. Tony returned a moment later, eyes still wide as he looked up into Steve’s. “I—“

“What?” Steve asked, voice lowered without conscious intent. He resisted the urge to lick his lips, though they felt dried.

“No,” said Tony after a moment, voice and gaze resolute. “It wouldn’t sound stupid. What would you say if I felt, ah, the same?”

                Steve’s breath caught in his throat. He searched Tony’s wide eyes.

                Movement on his arm triggered the blonde’s reflexes and he turned his head to look. Tony’s fingers curled around his arm and they pushed Cap’s strong hand deeper, lower on Tony’s belly and closer to what Steve saw was the lump between Tony’s legs. Tony lay with his own legs splayed between Steve’s, free hand braced on the arm of the couch to keep his weight solidly against the other man’s groin.

                “Oh,” Steve said, dumbfounded, and returned his gaze to Tony’s expectant eyes.

                He tasted Tony’s breath and for a moment, Steve had no idea what to do with the man sprawled in his arms.

                What would he do if Peggy gave him those eyes and whispered that she was alone? He wouldn’t hesitate.

                He did.

                Steve’s head dipped lower but stopped short of contact. He inhaled a ragged breath as Tony shifted and lifted his face into the movement on instinct. In that instant Steve felt stupid for having stopped. Tony’s hot breath washed over his mouth from parted lips and the scientist sighed in what Steve felt certain was disappointment.

                That was the sign he’d been waiting for, that this was undeniably the right thing to do.

                His arm tightened around Tony. Steve drew the smaller man closer and brushed his lips over the other man’s. Tony froze as their lips met and the brown haired man swallowed audibly in the silence of the Tower’s social room.

Tony’s back twisted and for a moment Steve felt awful emotional vertigo and sickening certainty that he’d misinterpreted everything and the other man was about to pull away.

                Tony didn’t pull away. He wound an arm under Steve’s shoulder and twisted on his side with one knee half-bent so the kiss didn’t break and he could lay against the larger man’s chest in comfort.

                Steve made a small sound in his throat as the body beneath his arm squirmed and half turned over. His fingers brushed over Tony’s tender side and dipped into the crevices of muscle around the smaller man’s hips and groin as their kiss lingered, renewed itself, then shifted gears into something more primal.

                The thought of Tony’s athletic body rendered exposed and vulnerable beneath his touch hitched the breath in Steve’s throat. Would Tony give him an overwhelmed, helpless look and let Steve explore, or would he fix the other man with a sultry burn that ignited Steve’s desire to consume? How did Tony like to be vivisected?

                Steve opened his jaw into the kiss and a moment later Tony’s mouth yielded to him. Steve tasted his friend’s mouth, brushed tongue against tongue and heard the small, precious sounds coming from Tony’s throat.

                Something brushed the blonde man’s face and he realized it was Tony’s caress as they necked on the couch, entwined and aroused.

                _I’m so drunk,_ Steve thought in a pleasured haze, though he knew it wasn’t an excuse. Desire had been present before he’d intellectualized it. But the drink enflamed it. And who wanted him drunk on that mystery potion?

                Steve pulled away, broke the kiss and sucked in an icy lungful of machine-conditioned air.

                “What?” Tony asked, hand curled around Captain America’s rugged, masculine face. His gaze darted back and forth, searching and anxious.

                “You—“ started Steve with an incredulous puff of air. “You _planned_ this.”

                Tony froze, then broke eye contact. That was the only admission of guilt Steve needed. 

                “You don’t need to get me drunk for this, Tony,” Steve chided. He turned his face into Tony’s hand and exhaled warm breath from his nose over Tony’s wrist and inner arm. “You could have just asked.”

                Tony barked out a laugh.

                “Safer to lower your inhibitions first,” the smaller man smirked and patted Steve’s jaw. “And this way I didn’t have to ask. You did everything.”

                Steve raised his eyebrows as an incredulous retort formed on his tongue.

                “Before you say anything,” Tony continued. “It all worked out for the best and no one got hurt. So how’s that for a good plan?”

                Steve rumbled in his throat, exasperated but aroused, charmed but frustrated.

                Tony batted his eyelashes and touched his fingertips to Steve’s jaw gently.

                “So don’t be mad, okay? I did a smart thing. Be impressed.”

                Steve didn’t respond with words. Instead, his hands found Tony’s hips and he lifted the man up and forward. Super-strength was one perk of the super-soldier transformation Steve had endured, and it was easy to toss Tony onto his back on the couch. Steve followed an instant later, knee between Tony’s legs and hip angled into the other man’s groin.

                “Good plan?” teased Steve, eyes glinting with wickedness. “Did you plan on ending up on your back, Tony?”

                Tony panted and lay still, legs spread beneath Steve, eyes wide and chest tight.

                “Steve—“ he managed as the larger man’s weight settled on him, and the name turned to a wordless groan of arousal. Steve’s thigh ground Tony’s cock in his jeans as he rocked into Tony’s body. The scientist bit his lower lip and a whimper crawled from the base of his throat. “Oh, fuck!”

                “Shh-“ Steve soothed and met Tony’s mouth with his own. The smaller man opened his mouth and hooked his arm around Steve’s neck to anchor them closer. Steve rocked in again, pulled his hips back and pushed again to ease his aching cock.

                Tony’s cry was wordless as his arm winched tight around Steve’s neck. His free hand fisted in the blonde’s shirt. Steve thrust against him again, again and again, and friction snapped electricity between their bodies. Tony gasped from each sharp thrust and pleasure spiked a silver needle through the centre of his brain. He felt high.

                Tony hissed out a breath, greedy for pleasure upon pleasure.

He wanted more.

They both wanted more. The two men gasped lungfuls of air between kisses, chests pressed together as static crackled between their bellies. Hands tangled as Tony was the first to yank at his own belt and fumble his fly with ecstatic hands.

                “I gotta—“ the smaller man explained as he lifted his hips and pushed his jeans down.  Helpfully, Steve pulled his weight off Tony to let the man twist his legs around to divest himself of his pants. They disappeared over the coffee table.

                Steve glanced down between them as Tony resettled and saw what he’d expected: a hard, dripping cock. Stiff with blood, Tony’s erection lay against his belly, over his t-shirt, and leaked a steady stream of clear, musky fluid. The sight didn’t particularly arouse Steve, because emotional intimacy was his primary motivation, but Tony’s cock pleased him, especially when it was stiff for his touch. There were more important parts of Tony, however.

                The blonde’s gaze snagged on the glowing arc reactor embedded in Tony’s chest, visible through the thin fabric of the scientist’s t-shirt. Tony’s cock definitely wasn’t the best part of him. But it was good, Steve decided, like the rest of his friend.

                Steve looked from Tony’s cock to his friend’s gaze and found the other man’s eyes fogged with lust and reflective as mirrors. Steve felt drunk, but Tony looked absolutely wasted from his hormones, the grinding and their kiss. 

                “Hold on,” Steve muttered into Tony’s mouth as he gave the other man a peck on the lips, and the supersoldier pulled off and away. He shifted his weight onto his knees and, chest heaving, Steve looked at Iron Man sprawled half naked and aroused below him. The sight was good, gratifying on a deep level that Steve ignored before tonight.

                He fumbled with his fly and pushed his jeans down around his thighs. He was about to remove them entirely when Tony pushed himself into a half-seated position.

                “Don’t,” Tony ordered, and Steve shot the other man a querying look.

Tony swallowed and tilted his head to look up at Steve. From his position, the blonde man loomed like a muscled Greek god hewn from slick marble. Steve’s shirts always fit tight, and right now the perspiration that darkened the clinging fabric down his chest made Tony swallow hard. He was reminded suddenly that he, in his Iron Man suit, was only as tall as Steve Rogers in his bare feet. That fact seemed incredibly important to Tony at that moment and his arousal-muddled brain hung on his size relative to Steve for a long moment of awareness.

                “Kee-uh—Keep your clothes on. Keep them on,” Tony managed, and broke eye contact to pull his own t-shirt over his head. It disappeared over the coffee table with his long-gone pants.  

                Steve blinked, aware that he was still mostly dressed and Tony was completely naked. Drunk, he swayed for a moment and tried to discover Tony’s game. Thoughts evanesced in a puff of surprised breath when Tony reached forward and wrapped one dexterous, calloused hand around Steve’s erect cock and squeezed. 

                “Ahh—hh!” Steve said intelligently and he fell forward onto his hands overtop Tony. Tony’s fingers rippled around his dick and the scientist smirked into Steve’s mouth as they fell eagerly into their previous positions; Tony stretched beneath Steve’s weight with legs splayed and their lips and mouths joined in a hungry embrace.

                Tony swallowed a mewl when Steve’s heated flesh settled onto him. The intimacy and touch was almost too much and Tony sucked in shallow, desperate breaths between kisses.

                “S-Steve—“ he managed when they broke for air. Steve grunted and resumed a slow rock. That alone was enough to turn words to mere syllables in Tony’s mouth, but he gathered himself.

“Steve!”

“Huh?” Steve answered.

 “I’m ready.”

Steve blinked at him, expression stupid.

                “What?”

                Tony grit his teeth for a moment, as annoyed as he had been aroused. It all hinged on how exposed he felt: with Steve confident he felt free, but if not he’d just feel… naked. He _needed_ Steve to be sure and confident right now.

                “You do know what you’re doing here, right?” Tony asked, eyebrow raised.

                “I know how this works. I was in th’ _army_ , fergodssake,” Steve rasped. He shifted his weight to one arm so he could gesture between their torsos. “This is—pretty much it for right now. Unless y’wanna move and that might end up in a conv’sation. Too jrunk. I figgered, just go with it.”

                “No, that’s right,” Tony said, annoyance level half of what it had been a moment ago when the concept of his having to take the lead from Steve threatened. “Yes. No. Listen. Yes, we’re not having a conversation. No, we’re staying right here.”

                “I’m drunk, Tony, say what you mean,” Steve sighed. His free hand slipped to Tony’s bare chest and he indulged his fingers in exploration of the skin around the glowing reactor.

                “I’m saying I’m _ready_ ,” Tony repeated.

                Steve blinked again.

                “Say what?”

                “I’m _ready_.”

                “I’m drunk. What’re y’talking about, Tony?”

                Tony closed his eyes for a moment. Steve was a colossal idiot when he’d had a few too many.

                “I’m saying—“ Tony said carefully, too embarrassed at this point to look Steve in the eyes. He glanced away and felt the tips of his ears heat. “I’m saying you can, uh, just do it. Go for it. I’m ready. I want you to feel good, do you get me?”

                Steve blinked with that same, dumb expression. Then he slowly shook his head.

                “No,” he said. “No, thass not how—that’d hurt, Tony. We’d need stuff from th’bedroom. Less just do nice things.”

                Tony shook his head.

                “Steve, listen. You can just go for it,” he said, chest moving up and down in time with his quick breaths. Tony swallowed. “I won’t mind.”

                Steve sucked in a breath, but it wasn’t in arousal.

                “I won’t _mind?_ Thassnot—I don’t—“ Steve shook his head. Speeches were beyond him in his current state. He felt nothing but an overriding sense of urgency to start their relationship on a higher note than unlubed drunk-sex on a company couch. Besides, it would _hurt_ Tony. He looked at the other man and sighed. “It’d hurt. No. We can do somethin’ else, but not that. Not now.”

                “I don’t _mind_ ,” Tony stressed.

                “No,” Steve repeated. Tony could argue all he wanted; sex required  Steve’s co-operation and he refused to dry assfuck someone he professed to care about when lube and a bed were thirty seconds away. “’S’not happening.”

                Tony’s head thunked down and the smaller man growled in frustration.

                “It’s gone according to plan so far,” he complained. “This would work.”

                “Veto, Tony,” Steve said, and the hand that toyed with the arc reactor’s glow travelled south, over Tony’s taut belly and further still. Steve smirked, confident this would restore a peaceful expression to Tony’s face.

                “What if I said I wanted you to?” Tony tried.

                “Don’t care, won’t,” Steve said. He paused as something occurred to even his drunken mind, and his smirk widened as he took a firm hold of the scientist’s erection. “Maybe will—later. But we’d haff’t’talk ‘bout it.”

                “We’re talking right now,” Tony pressured.

                Steve closed his eyes for a moment in appreciation of Tony’s persistence.

                “Thought y’didn’t want t’talk, Tony,” Steve said. He rolled himself to rest on his flank, half on Tony and half on the couch. His free hand stretched and wrapped around both their erections and gathered them together. Steve hissed at the contact and Tony bit his lip, silenced.

                “Ahhnn,” Tony breathed as he rolled his hips forward and his cock slid up against Steve’s thick tool in the circle of the larger man’s fingers. “Ahhh-that’s good--!”

                Steve breathed out a laugh and dropped their cocks for a moment. He turned his head and worked his jaw as Tony watched, then spat a wad of saliva into his palm. Steve’s hand gripped their cocks tight and saliva lubed their way with slippery moisture.

Steve thrust into the tight, hot passage his hand and Tony’s cock created, and this time the other man made no mention of his plans.

                “I told y’—“ Steve laughed as he turned his face into the crook of Tony’s neck. “I was in th’army.”

                Tony moaned and his mouth sought Steve’s. Steve turned his face into it and tasted nothing but raw desire on Tony’s tongue.

The two men moved against one another, Steve’s thigh between Tony’s legs and their cocks clashed together in the supersoldier’s wet hand. They ground against the other and teased grunts and soft groans from the other’s mouths.

Steve’s mouth found Tony’s neck and he sucked, nibbled and laved the soft skin as Tony gasped and fisted his hand in Steve’s rumpled, sweat-stained shirt.

“S-Steve!” Tony cried as he yanked on the fabric in his hand, breath caught in his throat.

Steve moaned in response, mouth occupied by the scientist’s neck as he thrust, thrust, and couldn’t seem to catch his breath. He had to warn Tony, but he couldn’t. Pleasure as brilliant as any star outside dragged him closer and closer, until—

“T-tah—hahh—“ Steve stammered, unable to complete his lover’s name as he came. He froze, mind blanketed in blissful white snow as his cock jumped and shot seed onto his friend’s belly.

Beneath him, Tony pulled his dick free from Steve’s still hand and stroked himself, staring at the blonde’s face of orgasmic pleasure. He’d been close when Steve came, and now Tony bit his lower lip as his own hand, slick with Captain America’s seed, hurried on his throbbing cock and pulled an orgasm from deep inside him.

Tony moaned low in his throat, and this roused Steve from his stupor. Eyes glassy and closed to slits, Steve nosed Tony’s stubbled jaw over and covered the other man’s mouth in a lazy, fond kiss. The scientist responded gratefully and his tongue slid against the blonde’s as he tasted his lover’s mouth.

The kiss was slow and languid, and it shifted, melted, threatened to reignite into passion that had just been spent as Steve cupped Tony’s stubbled jaw in his hand, sated but already desirous of more. He exhaled as they parted, and the look between them was tacit.

Tony shivered out a breath that washed over Steve’s lips, and Steve smiled as he leaned in once more.

Fifteen feet to the right. Reflexes sharper than adamantium claws tore the atmosphere in two as Steve and Tony whipped their heads to see the source. Tony, suddenly aware that he was completely _naked_ , unwound his leg from around Steve’s hips.

Thor stood by the door, Mjolnir on the floor at his booted foot. He had dropped the celestial weapon in surprise, but now bent to regain his grip.

“I shall return at a more opportune time, my friends!” he boomed, and at the same time, Tony hissed:

“Shit!”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> STONYYYYYYYYYY. That is all.


End file.
